


Chrysalis

by Zarigueya



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Body Modification, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Implied Sexual Content, Lack of Communication, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Slow Burn, implied r76
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-04-27 04:00:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14417223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zarigueya/pseuds/Zarigueya
Summary: Before leaving the medbay, Angela wishes her a good night, offering a warm smile.Moira feels so tired after her first day she barely dreams, but can easily recall a few images: the St Patrick’s Cathedral, jasmine tea on porcelain cups, a garden of butterfly bushes and Doctor Angela’s small hands.*About a meeting of Dr. Moira O’Deorain and Dr. Angela Ziegler, and the metamorphosis that would follow.





	Chrysalis

“I read your paper.”

When Moira meets Angela, the first thing she notices is how  _ small  _ her hands are. Now, that is definitely an advantage while working with tiny pieces on limb prototypes or to reach into small cavities and allow a cleaner work when suturing wounds —which is hard for her, with her long fingers, one of the reason she wasn’t fond to the idea of providing medical attention—.  

“I was fascinated by your discovers. The amount of lives that could be saved!” One of those small hands is offered to her. “I’m Dr. Angela Ziegler, head of medical research.”

She probably stares for too long at the hand before realizing the doctor was looking at her, blonde eyebrows arched, deep blue eyes looking up at her under bushy, long eyelashes.

Moira shakes her hand. “Dr. Moira O’Deorain.”

The second thing Moira notices is that not only her hands are small, but also extremely soft.

* * *

<<Inductive reasoning is a logical process in which multiple premises, all believed true or found true most of the time, are combined to obtain a specific conclusion.>>

* * *

The opportunity came on a cold autumn night, around the end of October, with the name of Gabriel Reyes. Moira was picking her boxes from the laboratory after submitting her resignation letter, a couple of days later after the scandalous brought by her investigation on custom genetic programs. She is getting ready to take a fly back to Ireland, when the commander appears outside her lab, alongside other two agents.

 

Dressed in shades of black, with the bright yellow moon behind, Gabriel resembles an halloween apparition.

“Overwatch?” she stares at Gabriel with narrowed eyes, lips pursed. “I didn’t think Overwatch, from all organizations, would be interested on working with me.” Moira perfectly recalls Overwatch being openly against her investigation.

“Not exactly.” Gabriel takes a sip of his black coffee, roll it on his tongue and savor it. He hums, pleased by the taste. Moira concludes Gabriel is fond to bitter tastes. “A covert operation division: Blackwatch. We mostly work by ourselves and have the liberty to do as we please as long as we carry out our duties, which at the end of the day, is to protect Overwatch’s interests.”

“Is the commander Jack Morrison aware of this?”

“Of course he is.” Gabriel smiles, his expression softens. “He personally gave me authorization to recruit you.”

Moira looks at the cup in front of her, meeting her own eyes on the clear surface of the already cold jasmine tea. “I refuse to change my methodologies.”

“Nobody is asking you to do that.” Gabriel sits back, leaving his empty cup on the table. “As long as you give us results, you’ll be perfectly able to continue with your investigation. And I personally would appreciate your help.”

“I thought Overwatch already had prominent scientists on their lines.”

He clicks his tongue, sitting back on the chair “Half of them don’t have the balls to work with me. They would piss on their pants before actually daring to look at me on the eyes”. Gabriel pulls a folder and drops it on the table “I thought that the liberty to work as you please could convince you, but since it might not work, how about curiosity?” He pushes the documents towards the doctor, the edges of his lips curving. “Have a look.”

She picks the documents and looks over the several pages. Her eyes widen when she reaches the last page, then look back at the man in front of her. “What is this?”

“My medical record.” Gabriel explains simply. “So, what do you say, doc? Are you interest in working with me? I would appreciate a helping hand.”  

A smile pulls from her lips. “You need more than a helping hand.” Back on her feet, the doctor holds the paper against her chest, outstretching her free hand towards the commander. “Luckily for you, science is capable of miracles.”

They close the deal and, by the middle of November, Moira moves to Gibraltar's watchpoint.

* * *

She has seen the commercials on big panels on the streets, the videoconferences through holovids, the posters hanging on the walls; the man with golden blonde hair and piercing eyes, dressed on his blue coat, the man who teenagers yearn for on these days.

However, Moira has to point out… the real Jack Morrison looks significantly  _ shorter  _ in person.

“Welcome to Overwatch.” he says, lifting his chin, shoulders stiff, cold blue eyes fixed on her. His words are far from what he wants to say, Moira guesses, by the way he tenses up when he moves.

“At your service.” Moira coincides with a polite reverence, bowing her head. She is aware some men are sensitive about their height and rather please the one in charge than earn his hatred.

The strike commander leads Moira through the installations, explaining roughly Overwatch’s mission while her eyes wanders around the facilities. He makes clear, just as Gabriel did, that her employment should remain a secret and the only ones aware of her presence inside the organization should be the people working at the watchpoint, being Overwatch’s members or Blackwatch’s members.

Gibraltar’s watchpoint stands on the strategic point of the rock of Gibraltar, the structure collides with rocky mounties —as if hidden from the world— facing the mediterranean; seagulls fly over their heads as the waves crash against the rocks, the smell of salt hangs on the air and the sound of the engine buzzing across the facilities becomes quickly part of the background sound. Big, cold and safe, that’s how the watchpoint feels.

They arrive to the med bay to introduce the doctor to the rest of the crew, more specifically, the medical equip. Of course, the moment she steps in, Moira feels the eyes of the rest of the team on her, silently judging her. Nothing to be surprised about, she is pretty sure everybody had access to the recent controversial news about her publication. It shocked the whole scientific community to the ground.   

“Good evening.”

Angela speaks first, visible excited for having the doctor with them. The only one whose expression shows something aside mistrust. She quickly dismiss Jack —surprising Moira, who didn’t expect those two to have such a close relationship— and ignores her coworker’s heavy glances, introducing herself and encouraging Moira to come along with her.

“I’m glad you accepted Gabriel’s invitation, you will love working with us. We can make a great impact on the world. Have you heard of Ana Amari? She is incredible.” Angela is a blonde,  _ petite  _ woman, with gentle features and bright blue eyes; a young doctor with a strong vocation and spirit of service. “We have been working together to develop a biotic rifle that would allow her to heal through sniping. It’s the kind of technology that would allow us to heal from a safe position and save as many lives as possibles. I’m so excited!” she fixes a blonde lock behind her ear, smile pulling from her lips. “I would appreciate your opinion on our investigation, if you don’t mind.”

Moira smiles, heavy lidded eyes, a hand settled on her chest. “It would be my pleasure.”

She is aware of her place on the organization, being Gabriel has been completely honest from the beginning:  _ We don’t get the spotlight, that’s not our place. _

She wonders if Angela is.

* * *

“How are you feeling?”

Angela has very specific manners, being asking the same question again and again one of them.  _ How are you feeling?  _ Moira has the basic knowledge of courtesy, aware of the importance of pretending to care about another individual’s feeling and current emotional state. However, Angela seems to ask sincerely, as if she really cared about the person she is asking to. Later she would realize it was more than mere courtesy.

“A bit tired.” Moira doesn’t see the point of lying, especially because she is not used to do it. After the introductions she insisted on getting into work, beginning with the transfer of all the data she collected to continue her investigation on Blackwatch’s operations. However, said data should be included on Overwatch’s memory as well, which is why Angela is helping her.

The blonde narrow her eyes. “Jetlag?”

“Possibly, yes.” Moira rubs her temples, the light of the screen hurting her eyes.

“May I recommend something?” Angela leaves her tablet and crosses the room to open a cabinet. She pulls out a small kettle, a tea strainer and a container of infusions. “Ana says tea helps.”

Moira observes Angela make her tea, carefully handing a fine porcelain cup decorated with a beautiful pattern of roses —probably part of a tea set she keep on the same cabinet— to her. The sweet smell of tea makes Moira blink and she stares at her cup until Angela asks: “Is something wrong?”

“No.” Moira beings, “I just find it amusing.” she arches her eyebrows. “It’s been a while since someone made me a cup of tea.”

Angela snorts, covering her mouth. “That is so sad!”

The doctor takes a sip, then slurs: “Yet, you are laughing.”

“I’m sorry.” Angela apologizes, bringing her hands together, pale cheeks stained with pink. “What do you think? Is it good?”

“It is.” Moira admits, savoring the tea on her tongue. It warms up her body and relaxes, the aroma sedates her. “Jasmine tea, huh?”

“Jasmine indeed.”

“It’s my favorite.” Moira confesses.

Angela smiles sincerely. “Mine too.”

They take a break, sitting on the cold metallic chairs inside the laboratory, the dim light of the laboratory buzzing over their heads, sipping from the white porcelain cups while they have a very light conversation about everything that comes to Angela’s mind.  _ At what age did you graduate? What was your first job? How was your old city? Did you like your job? Do you miss it?  _ The answers come naturally, without putting too much thought to it. Moira has never been the talkative type, but the tea is good and Angela’s voice is soothing, enough to lull her to sleep; she decides to call it a night when her eyelids feel heavy.

Before leaving the medbay, Angela wishes her a good night, offering a warm smile. 

 

Moira feels so tired she barely dreams, but can recall a few images: the St Patrick’s Cathedral, jasmine tea on porcelain cups, a garden of butterfly bushes and Angela’s small hands.

* * *

 

The camera zooms as Moira presses a button, the AI system recording Moira’s voice and image. “Beginning of Preclinical Phase. Subject number 0001.”

The laboratory quickly becomes her favorite place on the base, primarily because of the amount of time she spends in there. She also spends a huge amount of time on the med bay, sharing her progress to develop new technology for the team with Angela. Sometimes they worked side by side, respectful of each other works, being the only audible sound clink of rest tubes and clank of metal. However, as any other person, Angela was curious, throwing random glances at her.

Once she was done with the first part, Moira shuts down the recorder and turns to Angela. “Is something wrong?”

“Oh, no, no.” Angela takes off her glasses. “I was wondering, how many subjects are you going to use for this experiment?”

“The necessaries.” Moira cuts, looking at the rabbits inside the cage “But to begin with, five are enough. I don’t think we need more, why do you ask? Is there a problem with our supplier?” Moira taps her chin with two long fingers, realizing she should have ask Gabriel properly about the amount of sources she could ask for.

“No, it’s just—” Angela clears her throat and approaches the cage, bending over to look at the rabbits. “It’s the first time we use rabbits, I’ve always used mice as subjects.”

“Though I agree mice are easier to carry around, their short lifespan bothers me. I’ve work with my subjects for over three years. And rabbits are great for screening implant material prior to testing in larger animals.” She explains, curious about Angela’s question.

Angela opens the cage and gently grabs one of the rabbits, holding it against her chest. “And since we are working for humans, it makes sense you pick them over mice.” she looked up at Moira, smiling shyly “I apologize if my question bothered you.”

“There is no need to apologize.” Moira looks at Angela pet the bunny, then squints her eyes when she realizes the animal is very calm on her arms, sniffing the air, whiskers trembling. “You picked a weird one.”

“What?” She looks down at the bunny, realizing what Moira just noticed “Oh, you mean because of that mark?”

The rest of the bunnies where white furred; the one that Angela held, got a black spot on it’s chest.

“Oh my.” Angela points, holding the rabbit on the air, looking carefully “It has the shape of a heart.”

“They were all supposed to look the same for me to not be able to tell them apart if it isn’t because of their numbers.” Moira sighs “I’m glad it’s just a small spot.”

“Which number is this?” Angela looks at the collar around the rabbit’s neck. “Number two… that’s a nice number”.

Angela offers to help to take care of the rabbits, which Moira accepts. She wasn’t fond to animals and the less she had to interact with the subjects the better. Angela also suggests they should have names instead of numbers, she eventually gets to name them all.

*

“Was it a good idea to brin’ her here?”

Overwatch and Blackwatch could be compared to sides of the same coin, with a human face and a beast face respectively. Despite the differences they were still the same organization working under the same laws. Blackwatch just happens to work around them more freely. Moira is satisfied working under Gabriel’s wing, she gives less explanations than on her previous work and they meet regularly to continue with Gabriel’s treatment, which Moira is in charge of. The only specific thing requested from Gabriel has been to keep his medical record on secret. Apparently, not even the strike commander was aware of his state.

However, not everybody in Blackwatch agreed with Gabriel’s decision of bringing the geneticist. The first one on opening questioning her arrival is Jesse Mccree, a young gungslider who used to work with a group of outlaws throughout the southwest United States.

“Are you scared?” Gabriel question, rising his feet over his desk, Moira standing next to him.

“Ya know it’s not that.” Mccree scratches the back of his head, side eyeing the geneticist. “There is a reason why Overwatch was against her investigations and even I can tell why. All that creepy stuff...” he makes a vague gest with his hand, wrinkle his nose “There is always somethin’ fishy goin’ on the lab. I don’t think it’s a good idea and I rather say it on your face.”

Gabriel crosses his arms, huffs, shakes his head. “Did you know they told me the same about you?”

Moira squints her eyes, confused by his words. Mccree, however, seems to understand. He reels, clicks his tongue, looks away. “Boss—”

“Trust me on this, okay?” Gabriel insists, tilting his head, grinning at the doctor. “You know? We all got mixed feelings towards each other, but at least are open about it. That’s how we make this work. That’s how we make Blackwatch work.”

Moira blinks, side eyes the cowboy and then back at Gabriel. She laughs, covers her mouth, ignores Mccree’s heavy glance.

The dynamics inside of Blackwatch were always something funny to watch, as mixed as they were, and the closest to a family that she has ever experienced.

* * *

The med bay got usual visitors aside from the wounded agents brought after a missions; Genji Shimada was one of them. It was easy to tell when he was around, the sound of his metallic steps bouncing on the walls. 

 

Moira was honestly fascinated by him, the perfect balance between flesh and prosthesis. She had little access to his medical record, since he was Angela’s patient and she took completely care of him since the first day he was brought to Overwatch. Angela saved Genji’s life and despite his cold outside and the lack of emotions he showed, Moira could tell he was grateful towards her. Angela was fond to him as well, personally looking after him during his training, concerned by any pain he could go through. Moira thought about suggesting making certains improvements, but ultimately it was up to Angela to do them. Moira sincerely respected her decision though she was curious about Genji’s case. She had a great respect for Cyborgs and omnics in general.  

“I’m so glad I could bring him back.” Angela tells Moira while they follow Genji’s training session, monitoring his stats displayed on the screen in front of her. “I think he has potential, as an overwatch agent and as a human. Everybody deserves a second chance”  The edges of her lips curve up when she looks at Moira, “Sadly, I think he hasn’t realized that. I could fix his body but, the damage to his mental state...” she shakes her head. “I can’t imagine what went through... he almost died on his own brother’s hands. And then they asked him to take down his own family.”

The fall of the Shimada’s empire, the dismantle of one of the biggest criminal organizations by Overwatch agents, had been on the headlines for weeks. In that moment, she had no idea it had been Genji himself the one who did it. All the media did was give credit to Jack Morrison’s team, not even mentioning the existence of Blackwatch.

That’s how it was supposed to be.

“Perhaps,  psychological treatment could help.” Moira suggests.

“He doesn’t want to and we can’t force him.” Angela drags her finger on the screen, zooms in the image and stops on Genji’s face. “Sometimes I feel he wants to talk about it but he closes up so quickly…”

Moira follows Genji’s movements on the screen, astonished by Angela’s impeccable work. The true is, where Angela saw a man hurting, Moira saw a human reaching his highest potential.

She doesn’t say it outloud and the thought slips her mind before they change the subject —probably for the better—.

* * *

During her first christmas at the watchpoint, Blackwatch is sent to a mission to the Cairo with the intention of follow a trace left by Talon agents, thanks to Ana’s old contacts. The team is conformed by commander Gabriel, agent Genji, agent Mccree and Dr. Moira. It’s her first official mission as a Blackwatch member and she would be thrilled if it wasn’t because she had work to do on the lab. She doesn’t complain though and gets ready as soon as Gabriel announces the names of the agents assigned to the mission. 

 

When she is done dressing up with the official uniform, she finds Angela waiting outside the laboratory.

“I heard about the mission, I’m sorry you have to leave today…” Angela says, fixing a blonde lock behind her ear. She got her hair loose and wears casual clothes, Moira supposes a celebration will take place soon due the holidays. This conclusion doesn’t come only due Angela’s casual clothes but the christmas lights across the hallway. “I wish you could stay for the dinner. Ingrid helped with the preparations and everything is looking delicious.” Angela sighs “I suggest Gabriel you take some food from the dinner but he insist he doesn’t have time. I think he is uncomfortable with the idea of leaving as well.” 

Moira looks down at Angela, noticing she holds a package wrapped on a colorful green envelope and a red ribbon. She also notices the slightly trembling of her shoulders, her flushed cheeks; supposes is because the heating is off. She must be freezing with that dress despite the light blue scarf around her neck. “I don’t mind, I don’t celebrate christmas.”

“You don’t?” Angela furrows her brow, presses her lips on a thin line and looks down at her feet. “… maybe I should have asked.”

Moira tilts her head, pointing at her chest. “Is that present for me?”

“Yes!” Angela chirps, handing the package to Moira. She flashes a smile of pearly white teeth. “Even if you don’t celebrate Christmas, I hope you don’t mind receiving a present.”

Moira sinks her nails on the package, realizing how soft it is. She is about to ask Angela what is it when her comm goes on; Gabriel voice ordering the agents to report to the take off wing immediately. Mccree spits something ironically on the comm about punctuality, which gets a laugh from Gabriel. 

“I must go.” Moira says to Angela, who stares at the doctor with deep blue eyes. 

 

Angela moves her weight from one feet to another, crosses her arms, bracing herself; her lips part and Moira genuinely believes she has something to say. But she doesn’t. Angela closes her eyes and releases a heavy sign.

 

“The uniform suits you.” She breaths, cracking a smile. “Have a safe trip, Dr. Moira O’Deorain.” she adds, turning on her soles, the rattle of her heels bouncing on the walls as she walks away. 

 

Just when the doctor leaves, and because Moira has been looking down due Angela’s height, she realizes there was something hanging from the doorway. She pokes the tiny bush, pulling a face.

 

“Curious.”

Moira doesn’t open the present until they are done with the seven day’s mission —Moira doesn’t miss only her first Christmas on the watchpoint but also New year’s party— and on their way back to Gibraltar. She rips open the present on the ship, having Mccree and Genji looking at her while she unfolds the light purple scarf. 

 

The cowboy whistles low, calls Moira lucky; Genji barely makes a sound. Gabriel grins, says it’s a nice color and that it would suit the doctor.

Angela would later confess —on her second christmas at the watchpoint— that it was a handmade present.

* * *

“We are losing time.”

Their first actual discussion takes place on the third week of february, a couple of days before valentine's day. As a matter of fact, it probably should have take place a while ago, maybe even during their first week working together, but Angela is —as Moira would point several times in the future— the kind of woman who see people through rose colored glasses. On the other hand, Moira happens to raise several flags wherever she goes, and that’s why her existence within Overwatch was supposed to be kept as a secret, specially for high-ranking officials.

“Losing time?” Angela asks, turning to her, google glasses covering her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“It’s not necessary to go though the whole pre-clinic phase with this sample.” Moira insists, holding the files with the express consents. “I already got the subjects.”

Angela takes off her glasses and they hang around her neck, eyebrows coming together “…how did you get those consents?”

“We should be already on Phase I.” Moira cuts, looks away, refusing to admit she got a little help from Mccree and his very efficient methods to get people to say yes. The sooner they got the subjects to test the drug and study the reactions, the sooner she could go back to her own investigation. 

“It’s a very powerful drug, we can’t skip Phase 0.” Angela presses her comm, ready to make a call. “Let me make the arrangements to get the biological samples to test—“

“You are slow.”

Moira realizes too late that has been a surprisingly disastrous wording for a Phd in Genetics. 

 

Angela stays still, fingers letting go the comm, frown deepening. Her pretty face suddenly contorts in anguish. As expressive as Angela is, with words, she is also with gestures. Moira observas Angela goes from a confused expression to a pained one. The whole time Angela has always been patient, maybe giving too much ground. She respected Moira as a fellow scientist, a partner in the lab, but Moira always knew their methods were… different.

 

“What?” the doctor purses her lips, takes one step forward and presses a finger against Moira’s chest. “Hippocratic Oath: First do no harm.” she recites “I won’t put my patients on danger in order to get fastest results, Dr. O’Deorain.” 

 

It has been the first time Angela calls her by her last name since she introduced herself on her first day.   

 

Wouldn’t be the last one.

**Author's Note:**

> My first F/F fic ever...
> 
> This is a collection of my own HC of Moira and Angela inside OW. Initially a long fic but I decided to cut it on two/three parts.
> 
> Thanks for reading and I apologize for any mistake! -no beta-


End file.
